


where you were yesterday

by redrocketracer



Category: Original Work
Genre: After highschool, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Camping, Coming of Age, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrocketracer/pseuds/redrocketracer
Summary: De’Mora and Jude used to be best friends. As time passes things change, it isn’t until after graduation that they come back together. It’s a strange thing, an odd ingredient added to Jude’s group of friends on a camping trip.





	1. Chapter 1

De’Mora Rosa sits with her leg bouncing impatiently outside of the schools psychiatrist office. Her brown eyed gaze is ahead at the posters of what she assumes is supposed to be inspiring quotes. The one she currently has her attention on reads ‘insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results.’ A quote she has learned to have distaste for over the years. De’Mora frequently sees this scribbled onto the surface of bathroom walls in her high school. On desktops and one time on someone’s arm.

 

If she hears it one more time she’s going to start thinking that the people who so frequently repeat this are the epitome of the definition.

 

“De’Mora Rosa?” The voice that calls for her is soft and warm. Like the breaths of hot air coming from the open window above her. Licking at De’Mora’s exposed arms and cheeks. She likes the psychiatrist, Dr. Costello. He’s a young man that doesn’t look like he’s far out of graduating high school himself. 

 

De’mora smooths out her flowery skirt. It’s her favorite one, golden carnations with green stems and leaves that curl, twist on a red background. She stands and walks into Dr. Costello’s office. Gaze downcast as he closes the door, leaving it open just a bit with the garbage bin. 

 

De’Mora looks up, and she takes in the fact that there is another student in the room. She briefly remembers her. De’Mora sucks at recalling names, however. Doesn’t really want to. All she knows is that Jude Cole is her best friend. He’s probably one of the only people she knows at their high school on a first name, or last name basis. She drags her gaze away from the girl. Takes the seat next to her. 

 

De’Mora feels slightly uncomfortable with the fact that someone else is to join in on her therapy session. Although Dr. Costello has been saying that he thinks doing a buddy system would be beneficial for De’Mora. She doesn’t see why. She’s 18, graduating in a few days. None of these people will be significant to her in a years—no. A few months time. 

 

There is a silence that falls among the three of them as Dr. Costello organizes his papers. It’s a brief thing, something that he always does before he starts talking to De’Mora. His desk is rather unkept and De’Mora wonders why he even bothers. She guesses there is a level of professionalism he has to keep. She knows all too well what an organized mess is, though. Where everything is in disarray but the person who the disorganization belongs to can pluck what they need out of it with ease.

  
  


“I’m sure you ladies are wondering why you’re both here.” Dr. Costello starts, he turns to them both in his swivel seat. De’Mora taps her manicured fingernails against the arm of the chair she is perched in. Her half lidded, dark eyes focused on him. She knows there is a reason why she was called out of English for this. It was strange from the start as their usual meeting times are after De’Mora’s lunch period, which is the middle of the day. It was the last period before the final bell when she was told to come to his office.

 

“You see, Amber here is going on an end of the year camping trip with her friends. I had asked her if she felt comfortable inviting someone who I knew had similar interest as her. That’s where you come in, De’Mora.” He turns to her as well as the girl—Amber. De’Mora folds her hands. Fingers interlacing as she rests them on her lap. She looks down at that, feeling their attention on her.

 

“I don’t know.” De’Mora lets out, truthfully. She finally opts to look up at Amber who has big blue eyes. They’re soft and inviting, but it doesn’t comfort De’Mora. She feels the anxiety swell in her chest at the thought of having to be around Amber and her group of friends. Instantly she is struck with: I don’t like people. Followed by: I’ll be around Jude Cole.

 

The thought of being around Jude makes her hands clammy, her gaze darts away from Amber. Down to her Mary Jane shoes. Black and shiny and buckled up.

 

“I think you’ll have a lot of fun. We all really liked your art in this years show, I think all of us kind of wanted to ask you to chill with us, dude. Plus, we’ll be in the heart of the forest. Isn’t nature your thing?” Amber questions her. De’Mora takes her lower lip between two rows of teeth. Most of her art for school was nature inspired. Often times De’Mora would hop on her bike and pedal to the park by her house. It has a little man made waterfall with a bridge across it. A stretch of path that leads to it and throughout the rest of the park. Towering trees scattered about with sunlight peeking through the branches. The lake that leads to the drop of the waterfall and the stream after it. De’Mora likes to stand there a lot, scribble and scribble what she sees in pen. 

 

It’s not her only thing, really. De’Mora has folders upon folders of fanart. Some more friendly, others more suggestive. She does a lot of work for other people and if anyone knew her alias they would find her art blog. 

 

“Yeah, yeah it is.” De’Mora responds, though not so honestly. Amber doesn’t need to know that, however. She lets a sigh fall from her lips, pushing some of her dark curls behind her ear. 

 

“I’ll think about it.” She says, though she honestly doesn’t want to. 

 

Amber scribbles her number on a post it note and De’Mora hesitantly does the same. Writing her digits in her swirly handwriting on the little yellow slip that Amber stuffs in the pockets of her baggy sweats.

 

*

**Greggers** [12:30AM]: he really tried to set you up to go on some fucking camping trip with a bunch of fucking strangers? Doesn’t that seem fishy?

 

De’Mora looks down at the text sent by her online friend, Greg Holden. Her longest standing e-pal to date. He and Emily, her other companion and Greg’s girlfriend insist on De’Mora moving in with them. They’re a year older, freshly out of high school themselves. They moved in together in a small studio apartment with another friend, who De’Mora doesn’t know quite well. They’re all working shifts at little retail stores. 

 

**De’Mora** [12:34AM] I don’t know. I mean, it was kind of sweet. I also used to be friends with the girls ex boyfriend...best friend? I think they broke up idek man. So they aren’t complete strangers I guess. Even if I haven’t talked to Jude since we were in middle school. I don’t really want to tbh.

 

**Greggers** [12:36AM] I sense juicy drama. 

What happened? Why haven’t you guys talked? 

 

De’Mora sits up on her bed, placing her phone done after reading that. She can’t really answer that with anything factual. Middle school came to an end, and with that closing came the abrupt one of her and Jude’s friendship. There was no reasoning or closure behind it. All she knows is that her texts never received responses nor her phone calls. They were placed in separate classes in high school. When she saw Jude in the halls for the first time his arm was slung around Amber’s middle. He was surrounded by new people, new friends. De’Mora didn’t feel like she was welcome with them, if the lack of communication throughout the summer was anything to go by.

 

She looks ahead at her reflection staring back from her vanity. Dark brown curls that stop just below her breast. Tan, freckle adorned skin. Thick arms and legs and a soft tummy that is hidden underneath her night dress. Squinty dark eyes, full, dark brows, plush lips and a button nose.

 

De’Mora likes the way she looks, she wonders if maybe Jude doesn’t. If somehow the thought of being friends with the quiet, chubby Hispanic girl felt like a social suicide. If that’s why he stopped talking to her. It’s a brief thought, a ridiculous one that she stifles immediately. De’Mora feels for her phone and quickly types out a response.

 

**De’Mora** [12:43AM] I don’t know...things just sort of change after middle school. Are YOU friends with half of the people you used to be with when you were a kid? Lmfao. 

 

**Greggers** [12:44AM] no...yeah I get it. Idk, maybe it’d be nice to catch up before you hightail it out of there. 

 

**Greggers** [12:47AM] if they don’t sacrifice you to their god or Satan or smth. Idk, but the Amber chick seems cool? Idk text her. Do it. Do it now De’Mora we can’t be your only friends it’s sad. 

 

**De’Mora** [12:49AM] wow thanks….I’ll think about it dude. 

 

De’Mora does think about. Placing her phone down on her nightstand. What would it hurt, really? De’Mora has nothing to lose. If it goes sour, she can block Ambers number and never have to contact her again. Even if Dover, Delaware is incredibly small and notorious for everyone knowing each other. Bump ins and unnecessary catch ups at Walmart. However, De’Mora is always holed up in the confines of her room. Her future is looking at her computer screen. She does stream after stream of her art process for people who pay her. Does commissions and freelance work that has given her a bit of a reputation and money. She’s unsure if she’s even staying here after a few months passing anyways. So really; no harm, no foul. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jude is going to kick Ace’s ass in Smash Brothers. He’s determined to do it. Yet still, as he thinks it her character slams his into the ground beneath them. Their characters stand side by side, Jude’s looking crestfallen while Ace’s does their victory pose. He lets out a sigh of defeat, the game controller falling from his hands.

 

“Fuck you, seriously. I fucking hate you. You never win.”

 

Ace pats his shoulder in consolation, as if that makes it any better. Jude shakes her hand off, standing to pick the controller up. He places it next to him on the arm of the couch they are seated at.

 

“I hate being called Amber, Uhg.” Ace lets out. Jude looks over to her, sees that her attention is directed down at her phone. He lets out a scoff.

 

“I don’t know anyone who still calls you that. Except like, teachers and people who don’t know you well.” Jude pipes in. Ace tsks, typing out a response. Before she finishes there is another ‘ding!’, signaling a new text.

 

“Oh...oh wait!” Ace says, Jude assumed she must of come to some sort of realization. The sound Ace’s phone makes when she responds to texts is heard.

 

“Whaaaaat?” Jude pries. He tries to peek over Ace’s shoulder in hopes to glimpse at who she’s texting.

 

“Do you know De’Mora Rosa? You know, the girl who uh—art girl. The one with the big art exhibit.”  Ace questions, she talks with her hands and Jude watches the motions.

 

He does know De’Mora. Even with Ace’s terrible description. Quite well, or at least he used to. He feels a swelling of guilt deep in his stomach at the mention of the name. Though he pushes it down.

 

“Yeah, yeah I know her,” Jude responds easily. Ace checks her phone at the sound of it alerting her of a new text. Jude watches as she types another response in.

 

“Wellll. She’s going camping with us. You, me, Elise and Jonah.” Ace says nonchalantly. It makes Jude’s stomach twist. He doesn’t blame her, really. She doesn’t quite know the Jude and De’Mora history or that she has a small role in the ending of that chapter.

 

It wasn’t intentional, Jude had met Ace and it became all investing. He fell out of his friendship with De’Mora. When Jude finally saw her again, her face was buried in her sketchbook. Dark curls pulled back so they wouldn’t fall in her view; fingers curled around a pen. He didn’t think it was a good time to catch up. It was the middle of freshmen year, Jude was in the library searching out something for English. They hadn’t spoken in months.

 

Jude wanted to speak to her, but it was too late by then. He doubted someone like De’Mora would remember him. She was and is incredibly beautiful, talented; out of his league. His friend group was a small little gathering of dorky teenagers. De’Mora was bound to have boys wrapped around her finger. Bound to have a hoard of friends. Bound to excel in anything she’d desire. Jude was just getting by. Minimal grades, few close friends. He didn’t dare disturb her art process. Just stared briefly at the way the light from the window in the library bathed her in a golden glow.

 

“Earth to Judeee.” Ace waves her hand in Jude’s face. He pushes on her wrist to stop her, then looks at her. She has put her phone down at this point, has her body turned towards him.

 

“How’d you get that to happen?” Jude pries, genuinely curious. Jude figured De’Mora would be packing her bags, getting ready to hightail it out of Delaware. She was, as stated; bound for great things. He wouldn’t be surprised if De’Mora would go to some fancy art college. Jude is straight off to job searching. His mother needs him at the house, college was not in the near future. Even if it was, Jude doesn’t think he could handle it.

  
  


“Dr. Costello. He said he knew someone who might want to tag along. I didn’t think it’d be her—she never striked me as someone who’d need to see him.” Ace explains, it makes sense. Really it does. Jude remembers occasions where he had to stay on the phone with De’Mora overnight. How her nightmares would persist, Jude remembers her shaky breathing over the phone line. He remembers the one time De’Mora opened herself to him, her past of foster care and abusive parents; the reasoning she lives with her nana.

 

He doesn’t tell Ace this, instead just smiles awkwardly. His braces exposed as he does so.

 

*

 

They wake later in that day. The sun already high up and filtering in through the blinds behind the couch. It tickles Jude’s chubby face. He scratches at his thick, well manicured beard. Hazel eyes opening to the ceiling above him. It’s blurry and he feels for his glasses, which had somehow ended up on his chest in slumber.

 

Jude looks to the side of him, to the floor where Ace is curled into herself. A blanket is sloppily draped over her frame.

 

At home his mom waits, he forgot to text her that he’d be home rather late. Time spent with Ace almost always meant sleeping until noon. Realistically Caroline Cole should not expect less. However, she was a worrier and Jude was a mama’s boy. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts her that he’ll be home in a bit. Ignoring the texts asking if he was okay.

 

Jude sits up, stands to step over Ace and make way to his backpack. It’s Saturday, there wasn’t going to be many days left where Ace had to get up early for school. Graduation was just around the corner. Jude lets her have her sleep anyways. Pushing his thick arms through the straps of his backpack and making an exit. Gingerly closing Ace’s front door behind him.

 

The ride back to his moms house is a short one. Ace only lives a few blocks down. As Jude turns onto his road he thinks of the fact that everything is really all the same, but different. The street he lives down is the same little trailers placed on land. The same boulders at the beginning of the block is in its place. The corn field at the end of the street has not been changed. Barren during winter, full of life during the warmer seasons. Jude turns into the driveway of the second to last trailer and parks. The purring of his cars engine comes to a halt as he turns his key in its ignition.

 

Alice, Jude’s outside cat nudges her head against his ankle as he steps out. Same, but different. Alice is a new addition to the family. This is just one change. Jude would not be waking up every morning at piss o clock for school. Instead for work. Another change. He would not have to take the bus everywhere, nor walk. Another one. He would not have to spend countless hours studying material that never quite sticks. Another added to the list.

 

Briefly, the thought that he and Ace are no longer dating crosses his mind. That this is a change. They never will again. As Ace came to the realization she was aromantic and asexual quite a long time ago. Cut that tie to Jude, opting to be friends. It was for the best, as Jude could never really say he could see a future with her. A highschool dynamic, sure.  It was a battle for Ace to let Jude go still. She cared for him, even with knowing she never could love Jude the way he desired. Ace didn’t want to give that up, the closeness they have.

 

They broke up a few months after their senior year started.

 

Jude drops some cat food into Alice’s bowl. Closes the door behind him and calls out to his mother that he’s home.

 

*

 

Jude is scrubbing at dishes early into Sunday when he receives a text from Ace. His hands are damp and he wipes the soapy water off on his shirt. Picks up his iphone to read the messages that await him.

 

Ace [6:20AM]

I convinced her to go yesss

Artsy girl is going with us

My salesmanship may suck

But this is one hell of an improvement

My boss would be proud

 

It’s a stream of texts that Jude reads before putting his phone back down. He can’t help but laugh at Ace, her salesmanship does fucking suck. Ace has worked at food lion for years as a part time job on the side. Her tales of social anxiety and general retail disasters are boundless.

 

Jude pushes a few strands of dark brown hair away from his face before getting back to the dishes. He tries not to think of seeing De’Mora again. Though he knows this is futile because he is to spend a week with her.

 

Jude never considered that De’Mora and him not being close like they were was a change. One made a long time ago. One insignificant to the now. Jude wonders if maybe this could be a shift, maybe it could be important.


	3. Chapter 3

One by one De’Moras classmates are called to the stage to get their diploma. Her eyes follow their actions. The climbing of the steps and shaking of youthful hands with their principles leathery aged one. It’s strange to think she hardly remembers any of them by name. As if high school was one blurry mess of faces and brief conversation. 

 

They’re called by last name. De’Mora can’t help the nervous perspiration that gathers on her hands when they get to C. Indigo Cole, Joseph Cole...and then Jude, who De’Mora watches almost trip as he climbs the stairs to the stage. There is a short moment of laughter from the crowd at Jude’s misfortune. 

 

Jude looks almost the same, taller, with a beard. A bit bigger with broad shoulders and thicker build than when they were kids. He still has the same hook nose, light skin with a barely noticeable dusting of pink across his cheeks and nose. De’Mora knows if she were to look closer she’d see the same freckles that were present when they were younger. Demora’s gaze follows him, watches as he takes their principles hand and shakes. Then turns to the crowd and gives a thumbs up. There is flashing of photography and cheering from what De’Mora can only assume is Jude’s mother and friends.

 

De’Mora takes her lip between two rows of teeth and looks at her sweaty hands.

 

The rest of graduation goes by in a daze. When De’Mora is called she walks the distance with well rehearsal. There are no trips, she smiles to the crowd when her diploma is received and walks off. There is a few flashes of photography from what she could assume is her mother. De’Moras mom makes a strong effort to be present at events as such. 

 

Moria Rosa was not ready for a child when De’Mora was announced to be brought in the world. De’Moras father was not equipped for it, nor did he want to be. However they both took the role, until the state deemed them too unstable for it. De’Mora has vague memories of fear; pure, unbridled fear. Whether it was from a hand or fist being struck across her face or crueler words being spoken by her father. The silence from Moria was enough for De’Mora to feel resentment for years to come.

 

Moria tries to make it up to De’Mora with every bone of her body. Don, her father has not been present for a long, long time. 

 

De’Mora can appreciate her mother’s efforts. Though a part of her feels fire licking at her heart. It’s a small one, but fire is still fire. It still hurts if you dip your hand in it.

 

Moria is fussing over De’Mora’s bangs afterwards. Pushing some of the straightened hair out of her face. The chatter among the crowd is loud, drowning. De’Mora’s protests in her quiet little mumble of a voice is lost among the noise.

 

“I don’t know why you hide your face. Such a pretty face, DeDe.” De’Mora sighs at the use of the nickname. Ducking her head in embarrassment. She’s not trying to hide her face, she just likes the way her hair looks like this. Long curls with straightened bangs. Usually De’Mora is too tired in the morning to go through the process. Everytime De’Mora sees her mother it’s for some event, so she only sees her hair like this. Without a doubt Moria makes a big stink about it every time.

 

“Uhg, mom. Please.” De’Mora lets out. Moria finally puts a halt to her picking. De’Mora is about to suggest they leave to go home, please. When she feels a tap on her shoulder. De’Mora turns to come face to face with Ace. Formerly known as Amber. She’s got her ginger hair pulled back in a bun, braids twisted into the side. Her thin frame is cloaked by the graduation gown. De’Mora looks at Ace’s pale hand that is on her. Which Ace retreats when De’Mora’s attention is grabbed.

 

“Oh, hey.” De’Mora greets. She tries to smile but feels it is more forced. Not so much from not wanting to see the other girl and more for the fact that there are so many people. De’Mora is not a social person and the noise and heat is getting to her.

 

“Hey dude. Just letting you know we’ll pick you up on Friday.” Ace states. De’Mora sucks at her lower lip for a brief moment before letting the hold go. Right, she agreed to that.

 

“Okay.” De’Mora lets out. They awkwardly smile at each other, then Ace leaves to maneuver her way through the crowd. Back to her family, probably. De’Mora watches her disappearing frame before turning back to her mom.

 

“Who was that?” Moria questions. De’Mora shrugs her shoulders.

 

“Just someone I know. We are going camping in a few days.” De’Mora informs Moria. She almost expects Moria to question it, she doesn’t. Instead checking the time on her phone.

 

“We should get to Violet. She’s waiting in the car.” Moria tells De’Mora. It’s strange to hear her nana’s first name, as De’Mora is so used to calling her gam, or nana. However, De’Mora doesn’t say anything about it.

 

They weave their way through the hoard of people gathered at the football field. Making way to the parking lot and seeking out their car.

 

*

 

**Greggers** [9:36PM] congrats!!!

 

The streetlight illuminates De’Mora in its glow as she reads the text. She’s on her front porch and had sent Greg pictures from her graduation. De’Mora is about to type in a response when her phone starts to ring. She stares down at Greg’s contact name for a few seconds before pressing accept.

 

“De’Mora Rosa. Finally joining us in the adult world.” Greg’s voice can be heard from the speaker of De’Mora’s phone. She has the device pressed to her ear. De’Mora stares out at the park across the street from her where she can hear kids squeal with delight and chatter. Cars rush passed every so often, speeding to their destination. De’Mora can’t help but think that this is a horrible placement for a park. She presses the phone closer to her, as if that will make it easier to hear among the life of downtown Dover. 

 

“I mean, thanks. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.” De’Mora lets out. She doesn’t feel different. There is nothing that makes her feel more grown up. The evidence is there, though. Her graduation robes hanging on her door, her diploma already hung up in the living room among the plants that Violet has scattered everywhere. 

 

“It’s not, adulthood is a blessing and curse.” Greg informs her. De’Mora lets out a sigh. She can hear Emily in the background, questioning if that’s De’Mora. 

 

“By the way. No pressure, but we have the space if you want to move here still. Emily has been nagging me to ask. Nag nag nag. That’s all she does.” There is laughter from Greg and Emily, who shouts that the statement is a lie. De’Mora can’t help but let the laugh escape her lips too.

 

“I know, let me think about it when I get back. I still have to inform my followers that I won’t do a livestream this weekend.” There is a pause on the line and for a few seconds De’Mora thought the call dropped. However, Greg speaks up as she checks.

 

“So you’re really going on that camping trip huh?” Greg pries. De’Mora takes her lower lip between two rows of teeth rather briefly before letting the hold go.

 

“Yeah, why not? Ace is pretty cool. I’ll probably text you guys and maybe call. Should be fun.” De’Mora explains. Greg hmmms. De’Mora knows he’s being protective. While he mostly was all for it, she knows there is a bit of hesitancy Greg has. 

 

“Alright, just try not to get murdered or something.” Greg finally lets out. De’Mora rolls her brown eyes.

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

With that, they chatter on and on for a good hour. Greg passing the phone to Emily occasionally. When the call is over De’Mora stretches her arms above her head. It’s early into the night, in two days she’ll be deep into the woods with Ace, Jude and their friends. She almost feels nervous, but De’Mora stifles that. She turns to go inside, up the creaky old steps of her nanas townhouse to her bedroom. De’Mora types out a note on her blog cancelling her weekly livestream and begins to pack.


End file.
